


Blood-Red Brother

by TheWritingSquid



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Brief Harming of a Toddler, Canon-Typical Violence, Dadgil, Disaster Dad AU, Evil Dante (Fateswap) AU, Gen, Into the Spardaverse, Major Character Death Happens Off-Screen After, Spardaverse Week, Still Important Enough for the Tag TBH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:40:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22593427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingSquid/pseuds/TheWritingSquid
Summary: A Spardaverse crossover fiction -- Disaster Dad AU x Fate Swap AUIn which a three-year-old Nero mistakes a cruel, compassionless Dante for his uncle and eagerly runs towards him, leaving Vergil to scramble to save him.
Relationships: Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Nero & Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 174





	Blood-Red Brother

**Author's Note:**

> This wouldn't leave me alone yesterday, so you all get to suffer with me. Some basic info on the two AUs for those who don't have context:
> 
> [Disaster Dad AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1424623): Dante catches Vergil at the Temen-ni-gru, and two years later Vergil learns he has a son and begins a difficult road to fatherhood. I wrote this fic as if it's between part 2 and 3, AKA Dante and Vergil are starting to get along, and Nero is 3. He speaks more Italian than English.
> 
> Fateswap AU: Inspired by [this art from cherryvane.](https://twitter.com/cherryvaneart/status/1225370515952619520) In which Dante has been broken out of his compassion for humans and hunts them and devils alike, always seeking the thrill of the kill.

“Zio Dante!”

A large smile spread across Nero’s chubby face as he spotted the characteristic flapping red coat of his uncle. He sprinted off, tiny legs pumping as he waddled down the streets, pale hair lit in pink by the strange, blood-red moon.

Vergil’s blood curled, his instincts screaming. That was Dante all right. He’d recognize his brother anywhere. Yet everything about him was terribly wrong--the strength of his demonic aura, the feral tension in how he slouched, the teeth alongside his jacket as he turned… how he cocked his head upon seeing Nero, a cruel smirk spreading across his face. Sharp teeth, red eyes, partially a demon already. Permanently one, even.

What was going on?

Vergil stepped forward. “N-Nero…”

There was no stopping his excitable son, however, not where his favourite uncle was concerned. Nero ran right up, extending his arms to be lifted up, and cold fear spread through Vergil as Dante looked down.

“A little breedling, huh?”

He grabbed Nero by the chin, lifting him one handed and drawing a surprised yelp of pain from him. “Z-zio?”

“I can fix that mistake for you, bro.”

Energy crackled along the Rebellion’s blade and Dante’s smile widened. For one, horrifying moment, Vergil could only stare, bewildered. Dante wouldn’t--he would never--he--

But this wasn’t him, not really, and as he threw Nero up like one would a practice ball, Vergil’s instincts kicked in. He sliced through timespace, warping himself between Dante and his son, his entire body curling around Nero protectively as Dante swung the Rebellion upward. The sword sliced through him, starting at his hip and running all the way up the opposite shoulder, biting in deep and hard.

Vergil smashed to the ground, Nero still in his arms, his entire world reduced to the screams of his toddler, the agony across his back, and the hard stone beneath him.

Boots thumped behind him. Dante. Dante closing in for the kill.

Vergil struggled up, just enough to set Nero on his feet and find his wide blue eyes. “R-run. As far as you can.”

“D-Da’...”

Another stride. The demonic power flowing out of Dante. His idle whistling a song of death.

 _“Run._ ” He squeezed Nero’s hands briefly then pushed him away. “I’ll find you.”

Tears streaming down his face, Nero turned heels and ran, each step so small, so easy to catch up to.

“Tch. Won’t even make a fun hunt.”

A hunt. His twin intended to hunt his sweet baby like vulgar game. What was _wrong_ with Dante? Sickened and in pain, Vergil turned around to lay eyes on this awful Dante--this nonsense, cruel version of him. Demonic energy swirled through his twin as he pointed the Rebellion at Vergil’s chest, letting it drip blood--his blood--on his vest.

“C’mon, you at least can give me a little challenge, hm?”

“Is that what you want, brother? A challenge?”

It had been a long time since Vergil had fought--truly fought--and he knew better than to underestimate Dante. Yet as the battle drew imminent, his blood pounded in response, devil energy coursing through his veins. His back knitted itself as skin turned to scales, coat to wings, and a long tail sprouted behind him.

Dante had tried to kill his son--still wanted to. And for that, there would be hell to pay. Resolve hardened within Vergil, and he launched himself at his brother.

###

Dante’s smile never vanished.

It clung to his lips as their swords clashed, widening with every hit given or taken, reveling in the bloodied, furious battle. It stayed as the Rebellion and Yamato flew aside, scattering on the streets while the two devils grappled each other, claws replacing blades, wounds healing as fast as they appeared. They snarled and hissed and fought like beasts, tearing through wings, scales, flesh--everything they could find purchase upon--and when the pain became too much, Vergil thought of Nero’s surprised yelp, of his scream and tears, and he fought harder, rending his brother’s flesh with renewed ferocity.

Dante’s smile had never vanished.

It was still there now, a feral smirk so unlike the Dante he knew, teeth poking out and lips split. Blood soaked Dante’s hair--both of theirs--but he had stopped moving, stopped fighting at last. Vergil crouched over, every inch of his body trembling with pain, his devil trigger long gone, his healing vanished with it. Dante had torn his clothes to shreds and left countless wounds under. Blood dripped from his nose and chin, flowing from three claw marks across his face, open cuts that would not heal. His head throbbed, numbed from pain both mental and physical.

Dante’s smile had never vanished, but it would, if Vergil finished what he’d started.

He had won, if one could really call it that. Vergil touched his brother’s cheek with a trembling hand, trying to parse through his feelings. He ought to kill him. As long as he lived, Nero would be in danger. His hand slipped to Dante's neck, already caked with blood. This was for the best.

Yet Dante--another Dante, somehow--had caught _him_. He’d grabbed his hand when Vergil had chosen the demon world, dragging him back to the human world where he’d eventually found Nero. Could he truly end his brother without even trying to save him? He had no idea how Dante could have fallen this far, how this cruel monster could even be his twin, and yet…

“D-Da’?”

Nero’s tiny voice sent spikes of fear through Vergil. What was he doing here? He should have run, as far and fast as he could. If Dante had won… Vergil squeezed his eyes shut, then pressed his hands against his legs, forcibly stalling their shaking. Too late now. Nero was here, and he needed to put himself back together. Slowly, he pushed away the bloodied strands of hair clinging to his face, sleeking his hair back.

“Nero… You should not have stayed.”

Nero instead strutted closer, one hesitant step after another. Red streaked his cheeks and water still filled his eyes. “Zio Dante... ancora male?”

 _Oh, Nero._ He was worried. Worried about this man who had tried to kill him, worried because he could only perceive him as the uncle who played with him once a week, drawing screamish giggles out of him with his tickling powers. Vergil reached out for him, pulling his little monster in close and pressing a kiss through his hair without care for the blood he put in it and on him. Nero clung to him, tiny fingers gripping his shredded outfit.

“È molto male, little monster.” His gaze slid back to the cruel smile. His stomach threatened revolt as he reviewed Dante’s behaviour--the casual strike at Nero, the _hunt_ , the whistling, the brutal battle… “I don’t know what we can do for him.”

“A casa?” Nero asked, because of course he would want to bring his sick uncle home again.

Vergil sighed and tightened his arms around Nero. He was terrified of doing this, of risking his boy’s safety so blatantly, but he nodded. He owed it to Dante--his, or this one, it did not matter.

“Yes, Nero, a casa. We must try.”

###

Dante knew shit would be bad when he found Vergil sitting against his bedroom door, white hair splashed with blood, and his outfit more ribbons than coat. Nero slept curled against him, small hands tightly wrapped around the destroyed fabric. The moment he stepped in, Vergil’s eyes snapped open and his hand went from the Yamato, unsheathed and bloodied by his side.

“What the f--frick?” Dante asked. “Tell me.”

No need to waste words asking if Vergil was all right: the single haunted glance he’d thrown him was enough.

“You’re… you.” His scowl slackened in brutal relief. “But how is there two of you?”

Two of him? What the actual fuck was he going on about? “Ya wanna start makin’ sense or…?”

And then Vergil explained, and every sharp word out of his mouth left Dante more on his ass than the previous one, right up until “I kept him alive, in case we could save him” which was the sweetest thing Vergil had ever done for him, in a fucked up kind of way.

“So I got an actual, real evil twin is what you’re sayin’?” Dante forced a grin out and twirled, before offering Vergil help to get up and free the door. “I really gotta meet him.”

“Dante…”

“Yeah, I know.” This fuck had tried to kill Nero. He could joke all he wanted, but he wouldn’t forget that. He squeezed Vergil’s shoulder. “Go wash yourself, bro. I got this.”

He strode into the room and found the other Dante (who for the record had a great sense of style too) tied by the bed, bleeding on the floor. Sharp teeth, red eyes, slit pupils and a smattering of scales across his chest marked the leftover of a devil trigger etched into his very being. Dante grimaced, thinking of the jittery bloodlust the demon form often provoked in him, then plopped on the ground next to him.

“My big bro told me he’d finally won a fight against me, so I just had to see who the loser was. Ya don’t look like much.”

This other Dante cocked his head to the side, a joyless smile stretching his cut lips. “Oh, look at that, another me! So what are you, then? The kind and loving one? The compassionate fool?”

Dante’s eyebrows shot up. He stretched back and set his heels on this angry little Dante’s lap. “Somethin’ like that yeah. I do like Dad did and keep demons away from humans.”

“Oh! Oh that’s precious, you’re upholding his legacy!” He cackled, and dang, that sound was nail-on-board awful coming out of his mouth. “This old crook couldn’t even keep demons from his human wife and ya think he’s somethin’ to imitate.”

Dante shrugged. He’d fallen into this role without giving it much thought, at least not until he’d had to face Vergil. It’d filled up his time and given him something to do. “It helped with boredom.”

“ _Boredom_ ,” the other hissed. “Boredom! Ya can lie to yourself but not to me, Mister Goodie Dante. Protecting humans _is_ boring. Utterly pointless, without challenge. They sit there and weep and plead and do nothing, pathetic little things. Some run, at least, but they’re so _slow_. You gotta make games with them or there’s not the tiniest bit of fun. You’d be fun to fight I bet. Vergil was fun to fight! Finally got to put sink my teeth into a real challenge--literally.”

All right. This was really fucking weird. Dante tilted his head to the side, bringing his legs back. He didn’t like this version of him one bit, mostly because he could see himself in the wretch laughing on the bed, had been in that place a few times. Alone and bitter, seeking ever-more powerful demons in a string of bloodthirsty revenge, his care for humans more of a pretense than anything else. Always ready to die on the next hunt--eager to do so, even. It was not hard to imagine the path leading him to this Dante.

As he stared at the version of him tied down, a hundred cuts from his brutal fight with Vergil--a Dante whose first thought upon seeing a waddling toddler grin at him and reach for a hug was that he made a fun, easy target--Dante only felt pity. Out there in the eternal bullshit of this world, somehow somewhere the worst parts of him had won. And Dante knew with absolute certainty there would be no saving him. He stood up.

“Ya know, maybe you’re right. Sometimes this life’s boring. But I’d still rather be bored for months at a time while chillin’ with my family than … whatever you got goin’.” He slung one of his smiles at him and crouched in front of him. There was something gnawing at him, a question he couldn’t help but wonder at. “Was it worth it? That last fight, and finding your match.”

Red eyes glinted at his question, and the other Dante grinned back, all smug cruelty. “Try it out yourself if ya wanna know. All ya gotta do is bait him with the small one.”

Dante’s smile stiffened. Nothing to do for this one but kill him, for sure. He hopped back to his feet, stretching out with a laziness he didn’t remotely feel. “I’ll pass, just this once. Spaghetti’s too good, I’m afraid.”

He ignored his counterpart’s derisive laugh as he walked away, red coat trailing behind him, oddly at peace with his decision. Maybe he should be more horrified. Vergil had barely managed two words from how shocked the encounter had left him. But really, his poor twin had no idea what Dante hid behind his smiles--he’d never gotten a glimpse of _that_ Dante, carefully ignored and pushed down, locked tight from more bitter days. In a way, Dante had repeatedly killed those aspects of him over the years, stripping them out of him as much as he could, scrubbing the tempting nihilism of the endless pursuit of thrill. So, really, at the end of the day, what was one more time? The only difference here was that his demon had shown up in the flesh instead of in his head.

###

Blood filled his kitchen sink and stained the counter, but Vergil knew most of it was still on him. He didn't care. Some of his cuts still seeped more of it anyway, so instead of pointlessly washing himself, he put his energy on Nero. The boy had crumpled into his arms upon arriving here and seemed intent to sleep off his emotions, yet Vergil did not like the heat of his skin and occasional whimpers. He had no idea how toddlers dealt with trauma or how long his little monster would remember Dante's sharp claws digging into his chin, but it was obvious it affected him now, and that alone sufficed to make Vergil forget his own wounds. Nero only had a light scruff near his temple, yet Vergil cleaned it with all the care in the world until he heard his door open once more.

Dante strode out cracking his neck and stretching out. Only now did Vergil notice he had kept Rebellion and his guns rather than leaving all weaponry at the door. For once, he did not mind. He picked up Nero and brought him close, his chest tightening as the boy reflexively threw arms around his neck. Dante walked to the counter between them and leaned on it.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing to save from this one,” he said.

Vergil’s fingers dug in Nero’s back, his breath escaping his lungs. He stared at his brother, trying to decipher how he’d come to this conclusion and failing. Dante didn’t look back at him: his eyes studied Nero with a gravity that belied his smile. Perhaps that was part of the answer, then, and yet it seemed an impossible one, coming from the man who’d caught his hand and saved him from a prideful jump into the underworld. Vergil’s throat tightened and he stiffened, words escaping his normally tight lips despite his best efforts to contain them.

“Why me and not him, Dante?”

“Heh.” Dante’s smile turned into a grimace and he shrugged, as if to say ‘that’s just how it is’. Yet he still provided an answer. “‘Cause… you’re my brother. And you always had a goal, ya know? All the death and destruction were collateral damage you didn’t care about, not the objective. Guess I felt like that could change.” He turned back towards the door, as if he could look at himself through it. “I’m a drifter, Vergil. And this me in your room? Death and destruction is all he’s got left. The thrill of killing things. He’s a demon of the worst sort all right.”

“But he’s--”

“Me, yeah.” Dante grinned at him then reached out and ruffled his bloodied hair. “Don’t use that brain of yours too much. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Vergil jerked his head back and glared at his little brother. His brain was perfectly capable of following the implied meaning of Dante’s words, the subtle admission that he recognized himself in the vile Dante who had attacked Nero. His chest ached at the thought. Every now and then, Dante’s mask cracked and Vergil glimpsed a different person underneath, one he perhaps didn’t deserve to know.

The slip didn’t last this time. Dante stretched out and reached for the Rebellion. “Take Nero and go. I’ll take care of him.”

Vergil wanted to protest. Tell his brother he shouldn’t have to kill himself, that Vergil himself could do it; it was his responsibility, and he should have gone through with it the first time. Yet something fierce and quiet shone in Dante’s gaze which made him swallow the pointless arguments. He straightened up, fingers running through his child’s hair.

“Are you sure?”

Dante grinned at him--the easy smile Vergil was so accustomed to, and which too often hid a world of emotions. “Nothing like a little alternate-self stabbing to top off the day, don’t ya think?” He set the sword on his shoulder and met his gaze. “Go.”

Vergil’s hand briefly left Nero, as if to reach across the counter and squeeze his brother’s shoulder. He stopped halfway, the weight of countless fights and silences between them. They had learned to endure each other’s presence again, but most conversations still eluded them. Even so. It would not do to leave Dante alone.

“Then Nero and I will requisition your extra room for the night.”

He secured the toddler further in his arms, picked up the emergency Nero pack he always kept ready from the entrance closet, and left Dante to deal with his violent alter ego. Regret and worry pinched his stomach as he crossed the threshold, but Nero’s weight served as a reminder of his priorities. They would, at least, be there for Dante in the aftermath… and Vergil suspected that was truly where his brother needed them.

**Author's Note:**

> :]
> 
> hope you all enjoyed the feels ride ~
> 
> It was supposed to be just the two first mini scene, but then Vane and I kept discussing follow-ups with Dante so huh... the rest happened oops


End file.
